


Text Time

by LeafZelindor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg gets texts, lots of texts. And fortunately he's alone in his office for these. - Rated T for mild sexual descriptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Text Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is all based on a tumblr prompt by MystradeDoodles. Given the words Texting and Wanking, I ran with it. :)

Prompt: Texting, Wanking

Greg Lestrade is used to receiving texts. He gets them often at work. He gets them often from Sherlock Holmes. More recently he gets them from John Watson. Today however, he received a text from someone he did not usually speak with. Or so it appeared. Someone he wasn't even sure he'd ever given his number too. It was unfamiliar.

“I have often imagined running my fingers through your hair.”

Greg stared at the message for several moments, then slowly put his coffee cup down and cradled his phone. The number was not familiar, but it wasn't blocked. He considered a long moment before allowing himself to reply. Slow days lead to enough mischief in his office.

“Oh? And why would you be doing that?”

He settled back and put his phone down, easily waiting for a response. If it was a mistake the texter likely wouldn't send him another message. There was always the chance however...

His phone buzzed after a moment. He shifted to look at it again. “I would like to feel it under my fingers as I kiss down your neck.” Greg cleared his throat and glanced up. Nobody could see him. The door was closed, the frosted glass protected him. Easily he picked the phone up again. It took a few moments before he felt he had a suitable response.

“Tell me more...”

“You have to play along to get more.” The response was almost instant. Greg hoped one of his co-workers wasn't playing a prank now. He glanced at the door again, and took a sip a coffee before he took took the phone back in hand.

“I would lean to the side, allowing you to have more access to my neck. I try not to giggle as you hit a ticklish spot.” He felt his cheeks pink some as he sent that. The sensitivity of his neck was not something he told many about. His ex-wife had often enjoyed working him to a frenzy by teasing it when they'd first married. He shifted to rub his neck briefly with one hand as a shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

“I nip gently at the skin, tasting lightly with a brush of tongue.” 

Greg bit the inside of his lower lip. This was rapidly turning into something he really shouldn't do at work. Even more so with an apparent stranger. But a thrill he hadn't felt in ages shot down his spine, settling low and tingling. He shifted his hold on the phone to one hand. He had to type slower but he was able to compose with just his thumb. His now free hand settled on his thigh, creating intense warmth there.

“A soft groan escapes me, and in a whisper I ask you to please, please continue.”

Eyes riveted to the small screen. He waited for the anonymous person's response. A flutter of nerves in his stomach. Greg knew he shouldn't do this now. He kept telling himself that, but he found himself unable to resist.

“(1/2)I am more than pleased, my free hand shifts to unbutton your shirt,”

“(2/2) fingers side under the fabric to brush over one of your nipples.” 

Greg found himself biting his lip. He could almost feel the fingers touching. BHe knew they weren't really there. The hand he'd settled on his thigh squeezed a bit as he tried to keep his focus.

“I shift into the touch, another moan leaves me and my head falls back.”

He took a deep breath then settled his head back against the back of his chair, mimicking the action mentioned in his text. He let out the breath slowly and moved his free hand to unfasten the buckle of his belt. His trousers were starting to feel uncomfortable. This was rather thrilling.

“(1/2)Pleased with this, I tease for a moment more before my hand slides to your belt.”

“(2/2) I ask quietly if it's all right, fingers already working the leather.”

Greg groaned and finished with the belt popping the button on his trousers quickly before responding. “I pull you up for a kiss and breath consent against your mouth.”

“I am pleased, and quickly your belt is unfastened and my hand is in your trousers, fingers curling around you.”

Greg bites his lip and lets his eyes close for a moment, then his own hand mimicked that of the text message. A groan left him as his fingers curled around hot flesh. He shifted to look at the phone. “I make a noise of pleasure, rocking into your touch.”

The next message surprised him. “Touching yourself? Good, I want you to bring yourself off. Pretend it's me.”

Greg let the phone settle on his desk. Concentrating on what he was doing now. The subtle order tipped him off. Letting himself relax he adjusted his position and moved his hand quickly. It was the first time he'd done this at work, but he remembered furtive wanking in the dark as a teen. Having three brothers made for a silent pact about this sort of thing. It wasn't as long as he would have preferred before he was biting his lip to keep from crying out. A single name strangled in the back of his throat. The phone buzzed. Greg gave himself a few moments to collect himself, and grabbed for a couple tissues to clean up quickly before he picked the phone up.

“I do hope you're off shift now. I'll be waiting. -Mycroft”

Greg couldn't help a grin, he took a peek at the time. He could slip out without comment now. “I hope you're ready.” He texted back before the phone slid into his pocket.

“Donovan, I'm out.” He waved to the younger woman in passing. She nodded and made a note for herself. Just outside the doors a dark car could be seen waiting. Her note changed briefly to indicate her boss shouldn't be bothered.

Greg slid into the car, eyes sliding over the immaculately dressed man inside. “What next, phone sex?”

“For once, I agree with Sherlock. I prefer to text.” Mycroft allowed with a light smile, eyes flicking over the Detective Inspector. The car started to move, Greg chuckled and moved to his knees. Mycroft would be waiting for more than just a lonely hand...


End file.
